


Hold On

by theoreticalpixy



Category: Blindspot (TV)
Genre: F/M, Oscar pov, porn porn porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 07:19:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6508228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoreticalpixy/pseuds/theoreticalpixy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He might never get to touch her again. End of 1x16</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold On

Something in him breaks

She’s there, asking what he wants and everything he wants is right in front of him. He wants her. Oscar wants her so badly that she fills his head every day. He’s doing this for her, no one else.

So it all breaks and he kisses her. Hungry and wanting and ready for her to punch him, but dear god he can’t stop himself. She asked and this is his answer.

And she does pull away, he does, and so does she, and he hangs in the balance waiting for her answer. 

Jane kisses him and every fiber of his being is in shock. Rejoices. Is taken over by want. The want he feels every time he stares at her and the want he fights against every time they meet. He kisses her and she kisses him and her hands are pulling off his jacket like she wants him as much as he wants her.

He’s not sure that’s true. He’s not sure, but he wants it to be true, and even if it’s not he’ll take it. Whatever she’ll give him he’ll take and he’ll give all he has in return.

They’re frantic, frenetic, desperate to undress one another. He pulls her shirt off and pulls off his own and even like this she’s beautiful. She’s so beautiful and he kisses her like she’s leaving him again. He kisses like he loves her because he does. Every fiber of his being is lit up and in love and lust and need and every other feeling that adds up to how much he wants her.

His hands fumble at her belt, trembling with desire and her hands on his skin don’t help the matter. He pulls her jeans off, shoves her boots off, and he buries his face between her legs. For a moment he doesn’t even try to touch her. He rests his cheek against her thigh and his nose brushes against where her pubic hair has grown back, and he takes in the privilege of being here again.

They’ve done so much to her and here she is, somehow letting him touch her again.

After his moment of breath he goes to work. He kisses her sex and he know what things to do with his tongue to make her gasp. He listens to her noises, each the same ones he knows intimately and he manages to slow himself enough to take the time. He pushes her close to the edge then recedes. He slips a finger inside her and pushes her close again, waits for that hitch in her breath before he stops. One more tease and she’ll start cursing him.

He pushes another finger inside her and she arches. Yes. He thrusts them in and out slowly, wraps his lips around her clit and waits for her voice.

“Oh god. I-” her breath hitches, “ _Oscar_.”

He’s never heard anything better than his name back on her lips. He curls his fingers and he sucks at her until he hears her come.

She doesn’t scream, she’s not a screamer. She’s quiet, but the stuttering breath and the gasp, and the tremble that rushes through her is unmistakable. He knows her, and he hopes she’ll want to know him again too.

He’s hard in his pants and he climbs up her body with kisses. She pulls off her bra before he gets the chance. His touch is reverent in his fervor, kisses at each inch and giving long attention to breasts. Her hands dig into his shoulders and he knows it’s a good sign. He sucks at a nipple and lets his teeth brush against it once to make her moan. 

He works his way to the other breast, covered black with ink and he remembers when her skin was pale and her nipple cherry pink. She’s still beautiful like this. She would be beautiful no matter what. He kisses and licks and his hand massages her other breast. She makes a low noise of pleasure and that’s his cue to move upward. 

Now he kisses her neck, one of the few parts of her still pale. He kisses her bird. His bird. Somedays he has to tell her that. 

For now he kisses it, and sucks, and has to remind himself not to leave a mark on her like he’s a horny teenager. She can’t afford that.

Her hands are in his hair, holding him to her, and then one is down his back, down to his hip, and she pushes at his pants. He presses against her and her hand shoves his pants unevenly down his hips. More skin against her skin and now he’s the one that trembles.

She shoves his pants down, his underwear down, and she pulls him up to kiss her lips again. He kicks off his boots and finishes her work.

If he could die here. If time could stop. If they could always be together he would die happy. He tastes her mouth and he rubs against her thigh and it’s only when he can feel her hips thrust up, when her thighs part, does he get up on knees and slip a hand under her thigh.

He doesn’t tremble when he gets into position, when he thrusts inside her to bring them together. They both gasp, bodies in sync and slowness is something neither can take. Everything is too much; everything is going to be too brief. This won’t be enough and he thrusts quick and hard and their kisses are lost and found as she arches under him. As he pants and as they both cry out. 

He loses time. It feels like forever and it feels like no time at all. Being with her fills his head, makes him dizzy for the want of her and being inside her, making her moan, still isn’t enough to quell it. He’s never going to stop wanting her. 

She spasms underneath him and he goes faster. His face twists in the effort not to come. He can feel her shake around him, he can feel her nails tearing his skin and he can hear that gasp she makes when she comes. He wants to hear it again. And again. And if this is the only time he wants it to be complete.

He slows for a minute, needing the break, and he withdraws so he can flip them.

Now she straddles him and he can see her eyes better like this. Her brilliant beautiful eyes. Oscar pushes back inside her and her mouth goes wide with trembling breath. He knows what her ecstasy looks like and this is it. He smiles and he both hates and loves that he can feel tears threatening at his eyes. It's too much. She's too much. This brilliant beautiful woman he loves.

He’s slow now, she’s slower too, and it’s torturous. The most amazing torture. She threads their fingers together. She leans over him and he watches her body and when her hair was long it used to fall down and create a curtain around them. A private world.

Here, in a cluttered basement and with short chopped hair somehow she does it anyway. All he can look at is her. All he can feel is her. All he can think about is her. 

Without warning she rolls them over like fighting, like sparring that they’ve done hundreds of times, and to be over her again is too much. He thrusts inside her body once more and she arches, she bucks, her hands grasp for bedding that isn’t there. He pushes her thigh up, digs his fingers in when he shouldn’t. If he does leave a mark no one will see her thigh, he promises himself. It’s safe. No one will know but them.

No one else has seen her like this. No one else has touched her since she lost her memories. Somehow he knows it. He can feel it. Nether of them has touched someone else since the last time they were together.

Maybe that’s what did it. Maybe that’s what made them snap. The same lost want and the hunger for care. Maybe the moment he stepped over the line they both knew something deep down. She'd needed him and he'd needed her. Lost familiar love.

And now, breaths ragged and too quick, their bodies entwined, her hands pulling him close and his doing the same, the need is all he can think of.

They’ve opened a door they can’t take back. If their people find out he doesn’t know what they’ll do. This isn’t in the playbook.

A tear slips out of his eye and lands on her shoulder. Another lands on her cheek. If he’d realized what happened he’d be thankful no more followed.

She cries out. As close to a yell as she ever gets and after she arches, jerks up, and trembles against him she collapses back against the stupid table and he knows it’s done. It’s okay to speed up and let himself go. His face scrunches up and he can hear the pain in his noises and it’s barely four thrusts before he’s gone. Before he’s done. Before this is done and he has to force himself not to collapse on top of her. He rolls aside, one arm laid asunder across her chest, hoping to hold her with him.

All he can hear is breathing. All he can feel now is the racing in his chest and the rise and fall of breaths. 

He can feel the tear this time because it’s over and it might never happen again.

“Stay.”

He thinks he sees her nod out of the corner of his eye.

He hopes he’s right.


End file.
